


Decision Time

by Acts_of_Tekla



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reverse Portal (Gravity Falls), Angst, Character Study, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acts_of_Tekla/pseuds/Acts_of_Tekla
Summary: Ford couldn’t make himself damn the world, but damning his brother instead made him sick to his stomach.





	Decision Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the [Reverse Portal AU](http://busket.tumblr.com/tagged/reverse-portal-au) created by busket and the similar-in-concept-but-different-in-nuance [StanSwap AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806976) by OrangeOctopi7.

Stan disappeared, the portal shut down, and Ford collapsed, his mind nothing but static and a cry of _lost, lost, lost_ —and then it was careening dangerously in two opposite directions at once. Half was calculating repairs and necessary upgrades to the portal and figuring out how to get more fuel; the other was shouting that he couldn’t change his plans: he had to dismantle the portal and leave.

He had already been selfish—despicably selfish—to call his brother here instead of destroying his research immediately. Now that he had saved one and lost the other, he would have traded in a heartbeat. But the equation had changed: nothing could be important enough to risk the possibility of universal devastation.

Numbly, he forced himself to stand, to pick up a wrench, to walk over to the portal—

He’d take it one step at a time. He could start with just one bolt. All he had to do was loosen it. Or tighten it. There was so much to do, whichever way he chose.

He couldn’t even make himself raise his arm.

Damn it, he had to make a decision! He couldn’t just stand here forever, refusing or unable to fix the mess he’d caused!

Mess.

Fix the—

He dropped the wrench and ran back to the control room. The portal hadn’t been meant to be activated. None of the usual calculations or safety checks had been performed, and even under the best of circumstances, there was always a danger of instability.

The anomaly was tiny, but immediately apparent on the sensors to Ford’s trained eye. There was a strange uncoiling of tension in his chest. Of course he couldn’t risk opening the portal again with a micro-rift already present in the immediate vicinity. And he couldn’t risk leaving the rift alone either. He would have to contain it as soon as possible, a task which had never been attempted or even conceived of before. He might have to go back to the alien ship for materials and further research. Even if he began immediately, it would take at least a few days.

He had a few days to decide.

He hoped that he would be able to.

*~*~*

Long story short, he hadn’t.

Instead, he had continued stalling, finding himself tasks that he could justify as important, but that couldn’t be considered steps down either road. He had to repair the computer and update the code so that he could make sure that the micro-rift had been contained properly. And then, of course, he had to analyze the data from the recent activation. And when he realized that there was a chance that the damage to the portal was causing irregularities in the analysis, well, he naturally had to repair it.

It didn’t mean anything, not really. Even in one piece, the portal was far from functional. Nothing short of plutonium would power it, and he and Fiddleford had gone through quite a song and dance with the federal government to get their hands on it the previous time. Ford wasn’t sure he’d risk trying that again. He couldn’t make himself damn the world, but damning his brother instead made him sick to his stomach. He was sure that if he allowed himself the possibility of bringing Stan back at the push of a button, someday he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

But he couldn’t just give up for good either. It wouldn’t just mean abandoning Stan, if he were even still alive. It would mean admitting to himself that he could never rectify his mistakes, that he could never be forgiven.

He thought he had some idea of how Stanley had felt a decade earlier.

*~*~*

It wasn’t until much later that he was forced to realize that he’d been selfish once again, that he’d forgotten that he hadn’t been the only one to lose Stanley.

He was in the kitchen, forcing himself to eat only so he wouldn’t collapse completely, when the telephone rang. He jumped, choked, and stared at it like he’d forgotten it was there. Who could want to talk to him now?

(Once upon a time he’d received occasional calls from a person who never said anything, just breathed. In this strange moment, he finally realized who had been on the other end of the line.)

Against all rationality, he picked up the receiver expecting to hear his brother’s breathing. “Stanford Pines,” he barely remembered to say. It had been months since he’d spoken with another person.

“Ford! You actually picked up! I’m so glad I caught you at a good time.”

“…Ma?”

“Has it been so long you don’t recognize my voice?”

“Of course not, Ma, I was just surprised. I—I’m sorry. I know it’s been a long time since I called.”

(It had been months ago, when he’d asked for Stanley’s contact information. Their mother was the only person his brother had kept in touch with. She’d been so excited when he asked, certain that her boys were going to be best friends again. He’d barely spent any time talking once he’d gotten what he wanted. He was disgusted at himself. As if the mailman were going to stop by any earlier than he always did if Ford spent a few minutes chatting, or Bill were going to somehow get past his defenses via the telephone wires.)

“Oh, that’s fine, hon, I know you’re busy with your research.”

Silence. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“It’s just that—I don’t want to pry—but the last time we talked, you asked about Stanley, and I just—I wanted to know—did you get back in touch? Or—did you fight again maybe? I won’t be mad if you did, really, it’s between you two, but—I haven’t heard from him in months, not since before I talked to you, and I thought—I thought maybe he was mad at me or—” She finally burst into tears.

Words that refused to form in his mouth fought for dominance in his mind.

_Stanley isn’t angry with you. He’s lost. He might be dead. He might just wish he is._

_It’s all my fault._

“I—I haven’t heard from him, Ma,” he finally managed to choke out. “Maybe he’d already moved on by the time I wrote.”

He lied to his mother, and half expected to be struck dead on the spot for it. But any gods who were listening hadn’t stopped him from screwing up before, and they didn’t this time either. They’d rather watch him writhe.

He listened to her cry for what felt like hours, all of the worries she’d never shared with him spilling out with her sobs.

She had never spoken to him about Stanley before. He’d never asked. The fact that she was in contact with him was just another facet of the Thing They Didn’t Talk About that was Stanley and everything to do with him. But somehow, he’d thought that if things were really bad, he would have known.

He hadn’t.

He hadn’t known anything.

He still didn’t.

And right now, his mother didn’t know that one of her sons was now forever beyond her reach. She guessed, but she didn’t _know_ , and so she could still hope that he wasn’t, and that was the worst part.

For the first time since Stanley had disappeared into the portal, Ford made up his mind. The fact that Stanley might be alive was his burden alone. He was the only one who deserved to live with it. Everyone else would be given the peace of mind that he would never have.

A few days of planning later, he drove Stan’s beloved car to the ravine, cut the brake lines, and pushed it in.


End file.
